In Sickness and In Health
by MythicMittens
Summary: Christine's illness was a mystery to all doctors. It seemed as though she would always be sick, until a doctor going merely by "Erik," appeared, promising a cure. It seemed like her only chance, but as time went by Christine grew unsure of his motivations, and more frightened of him. Dark, Modern AU, Leroux.


**Summary:** Christine's illness was a mystery to all doctors. It seemed as though she would always be sick, until a doctor going merely by "Erik," appeared, promising a cure. It seemed like her only chance, but as time went by Christine grew unsure of his motivations, and more frightened of him. Dark, Modern AU, Leroux.

**A/N: **This is a complete overhaul of an old story (Just One Man) I have back on my other profile. I always liked the premise, but at the time my writing wasn't good enough to do it justice and I'd like to try again. I'm not sure how much resemblance it will bear to the older story, as I'm mainly going off the premise and the basic plot. I was partially inspired by _Repo! The Genetic Opera._

* * *

**Chapter One: Illness**

* * *

It wasn't a sudden thing; the illness crept over her slowly. Christine first noticed that she was tired, all the time. She could sleep for twelve hours and feel just as exhausted as when she went to sleep. She generally was a very social person, but she stayed home more and more. Her father grew worried, but he figured it was just the stress of her first year of college. But when finals came and went, and her classes were done for the summer, it didn't go away. If anything, it got worse. Some days she could barely get out of bed.

Soon after that, the headaches began. At first, they were small. An annoyance, but nothing more. Eventually they became migraines, multiple day ordeals in which she would stay in bed and curse the sun. After that, her father new it was serious and began taking her to doctors. The doctors had no idea what it was, and sent her to a specialist. The specialist insisted she was faking it, and sent them off to a therapist. Nearly a month of sessions provided no insight into her condition, and with no history of mental health problems in her family, they eventually terminated the sessions.

By then, Christine had been poked, prodded, and had her blood drawn more times than she could count. She had been through so many machines that had all said she was perfectly normal and there was no reason for this to be happening. She began to lose hope as she ran out of options. Even worse, when out of bed for long periods of time, she would faint. Now she rarely left her bed, even as summer blossomed around her and she wished very much to be with her friends.

Her father, Gregory, despite having his own health problems, simply couldn't watch her waste away like this. He put everything into his search, and it seemed his faith was rewarded; he soon came across a man online who claimed he could help.

He was strange, but credible. He had certification from some of the best schools in America. Still, Gregory wasn't sure. He tried to dig more into this man, finding very little. He was not in the phone book, nor was he listed at any hospital. He worked out of his rather large house, located a while out of the city's limits. The only thing he truly managed to find out was that the man wore a mask, which only raised more questions. Still, this seemed to be his last chance. He wasn't willing to give up, even if it meant following every possibility he found.

And so, he brought this information to Christine, hoping that she would give it a try. She smiled weakly, at him, placing her hand on his. She was just as worried about him as he was about her; her illness had taken a toll on him, and with his heart condition he was a fragile man to begin with. She figured if this worked, it would help the both of them. And so, an agreement was reached.

* * *

Christine was beyond apprehensive; her father had told her little about this man, but what he had told her had just confused her. She was to meet him today when he came for the first appointment. She was trying desperately to keep her expectations low; she had met so many doctors, and none of them had done anything for her. But, she couldn't help but get excited when she thought of returning to her past, healthy self.

She gave up on attempting to read the book she had in her hands, instead placing it on top of the pile of books that unintentionally been formed next to her bed. She slipped out of bed carefully, trying not to fall back onto it due to her dizziness. Standing, she made her way to the door, hoping to check if the new doctor was here. Her father was there, instead, walking down the hallway to her room.

"Christine! You shouldn't be out of bed so much." He commented, rushing to her to put his hands on her shoulders before guiding her back to bed.

She sighed, though she knew it was true. "I feel better today." She lied.

He seemed to realize her fib but decided not to comment on it. "Still, you shouldn't push it. If you fainted and hit your head on something, it could be very dangerous." His grip seemed to tighten on her shoulders, indicating his worry. She nodded and slid back in to bed, hoping to ease his tension. Just as she settled back in, the doorbell rang, and her father started slightly. "I will be right back. That must be him." He hurried off, and she realized that nowadays he always seemed frantic and rushed. She almost felt guilty, knowing she was the cause of his worry, but she tried to brush it away, knowing it wasn't truly her fault.

She fiddled with her blanket, needing something to occupy herself as the footsteps came closer and the voices became more distinguishable. She didn't raise her eyes until they were in the room, and then she almost had to keep from gasping.

The man was dressed entirely in black. His shirt, tie, jacket and trousers were all a matching shade of black. Even his face sported a black porcelain mask that covered everything but his lower jaw. How could a man that looked so much like death be the one to cure her?

Eventually, she found her manners again and stopped staring. She blinked, lowering her eyes slightly and hoped he wasn't offended. She didn't know why he wore the mask but she was certain it wasn't just because he liked the look. "Um, good afternoon." She stated, trying to guard her tone.

He bowed every so slightly. "And to you." He took a few steps forward, her father lingering as long as he thought he could get away with before going down the hall to wait impatiently in his own room. "Christine... It is Christine, right? Yes, of course." He didn't seem to need a response, and so he continued. "I am Erik."

She was slightly confused that he gave her his first name. It seemed too... comfortable for her. "Do you have a last name?" She asked, somewhat sarcastically.

He didn't seem to take offense to the question, and continued. "No, not that I know of." Well, that just confused her even more. He continued on, either not noticing or ignoring her discomfort. "And how old are you?"

"I'm nineteen." She replied, sinking back against the propped up pillows against her headboard. "My birthday is in a few months."

"And you still live with your father?" The question had no tone of judgement to it, but she couldn't help but feel offended. She seemed to be searching for some reason to be wary of this man... It was just a feeling he gave her.

"Is there something wrong with that?" She asked, crossing her arms. "He's had some recent health issues and I'd prefer to be close to him."

"No, not at all. I admire that you care for him so much." He replied, tilting his head to the side slightly, as if examining her. His voice was soft and beautiful, and seemed to be the only quality about him that was in any way warm or inviting. "You attend college?"

"I don't take summer classes, but I've finished my first year. The fall semester starts again in a few weeks." She didn't exactly mind small talk, but she didn't understand why he wanted to know all this. Still, if it would help, she would answer.

He nodded in understanding. "Very well. One last thing before we truly begin... Why do you no longer sing?"

She blinked in shock at the question. _Wha... How did he even know I sang? Why are these questions so personal? _"I, um..." She truly had no idea to respond.

After a moment he lowered his head and spoke again. "Forgive me. Your father told me about how you used to sing, I believe a creative outlet would be good for you in this condition. Now, let's get down to business. Your symptoms seem to be chronic fatigue, migraines, dizziness and fainting?" She nodded absently, still shocked by his earlier question. "I believe these may help." He pulled an orange pill container with no label out of his pocket, handing it to her. She didn't notice when their fingers brushed, but he did. "It is a slightly experimental medicine, so I'm afraid you'll only be able to get it through me. Also, we will need to begin scheduling appointments..."

She examined the nondescript white pills while processing his words. "So the medicine won't be enough?"

"I doubt it. It may treat the symptoms, but I believe the problem is more psychological in nature. You see, I studied psychology as well as internal medicine, and I believe it would be very beneficial for you to see me on a regular basis." His voice gained an edge to it, something that didn't sit well.

"I already saw a therapist for a while and it didn't really help..." She commented. She didn't really like the idea of having to see him all the time... this meeting alone had already been so strange. Still, if it would make her better, then she would do it.

"Well, I am not simply a therapist, and I am no average doctor. I have confidence that if you come to your appointments, you will get better." His eyes seemed to flash golden as he made the last statement. He then nodded, said goodbye, and was gone. Christine was left sitting on her bed, holding the pill bottle, confused.


End file.
